


one single thread of gold

by youspeakmysoul



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, minor depiction of involuntary drug use, previously uploaded, you want tropes? we’ve got tropes!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26368711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youspeakmysoul/pseuds/youspeakmysoul
Summary: “This is becoming rather familiar, Jack.”Her fingers tighten around the collar of his overcoat, knuckles accidentally brushing the nape of his neck.“Let’s not make a habit of it, shall we?”
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 114





	one single thread of gold

**Author's Note:**

> It’s entirely the crypt of tears fault that I’ve made it back in to writing so this is an reupload of a previously deleted fic from ficathon (I believe it was called let’s not make a habit) that I still love but have since tweaked as I’d like to believe I’m a better writer now than three years ago, enjoy! (yes I did also rename it after folklore because I can do what I want, _taylor swift’s “invisible string“_ )

/

“This is becoming rather familiar, Jack.”  
Her fingers tighten around the collar of his overcoat, knuckles accidentally brushing the nape of his neck.

“Let’s not make a habit of it, shall we?”

“What, you carrying me? I must confess I’ve grown quite attached to the sensation,” she uses the opportunity of his hands being occupied to trail the fingertips of her free hand up the side of his neck.

He releases a frustrated huff of laughter, “How about we start with you not being drugged next time, hm?”

“Next time, now I do like the sound of that,” she practically purrs, shifting easily in his arms; one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back.

He absolutely one hundred percent blames her entirely for their current predicament. A situation that includes a moderately drugged Phryne in his arms, the pair of them currently being on the run from the aftermath of what could turn out to be a gang war and although not far from the nearest town, seemingly stranded in the middle of the night. 

Of course, how could such a turn of events be caused by anyone else?

Unnerved by her continued silence, he pauses abruptly to risk a glance at her face, keeping his voice as steady as possible as to not alarm her. “Phryne, are you still with me?” 

Her eyes shoot open, “Oh yes, I’m simply considering this next time, would this possibly occur inside my boudoir?”

He refuses to indulge her with a response, rather only offers a brief shake of his head and concentrates on making sure he doesn’t drop her. They haven’t been walking long but he’d rather not wait to become sitting ducks if the goons that had been guarding the shelter decide to return, his first priority is keeping Phryne safe.

“Or of course yours, the location is nothing to me Jack,” she continues, obviously intoxicated and completely oblivious to the amount of trouble they may be in. “I certainly don’t doubt your ability to hold me up, I once knew this wonderful gymnast who could do marvellous things standing up all whilst I was wrapped around his-“

“Miss Fisher, please!” He doesn’t want to hear about some incredibly talented gymnast, he only wants _needs_ to find a safe location to hide out until she’s thinking clearer and he can focus on what their next steps should be. 

His frustration causes him to stiffen, muscles tense and the movement jostles her slightly as she grips his lapel for added support and suddenly her face is much closer than before. 

She looks on at him with amusement and perhaps a hint of fond exasperation. This is his fault after all for starting the cause of inquiry.

“I think I preferred you last time, much less capable of speech,” he teases, an apology if necessary.

“Liar,” she claims confidently and catches that slight half-smile she adores. 

His eyes land on a small barn just at the edge of his vision apparently just yards away.

He looks conflicted for a moment before admitting, “I’m going to have to let you down for a second to get a better look at-“

It’s probably a testament to how out of her senses she is when she cuts him off, neglecting to even glance in the direction he’s looking.

“I am fine, Jack,” she insists and though she seemed unsteady as her feet first touched the ground she quickly regains her balance admirably. “See, tip top, considerably fine.”

He looks unconvinced as she sways defiantly. “Stay here,” he says firmly, as though there’s ever been a chance of that.

“Don’t be absurd, Jack.” 

Phryne hums as they walks, a song that sounds familiar but he can’t quite place. The temperature had dropped quite dramatically and she shudders visibly. Although dressed in her usual snooping outfit and not some flimsy frock, it’s not warm by any means. He nobly shucks his coat and hands it to her but she struggles to put it on before descending in to giggles and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen such an endearing sight. 

He sighs before taking it from her and gently draping it over her shoulders. That was when the first drop of rain fell. If it could even be called rain, it dropped like a mist, light and cool.

It takes Jack a moment to process what Phryne is doing, she twirls around in reckless, lopsided circles, seemingly unaware or just not caring about the mist that could descend in to a downpour at any moment, fingers still clutching at his coat on her shoulders. 

“Phryne!” he hisses, trying to grab in towards their only chance of shelter.

She only laughs, delighted and darts away from his reach. “Come on, Jack!  
When was the last time you danced in the rain?”

“Never.”

“I don’t believe that for a second, dance with me Jack Robinson!”

“Phryne it’s freezing, you’ll catch your death!”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” She shouts, a few strands of black hair are sticking up from her usually immaculate bob and Jack fights the urge to smooth them down.

“I think knowing you is adventure enough,” he remarks but can feel his resolve weakening, it not quite rain, not yet and so he can’t see much harm in indulging her for just a moment. He grabs her hand and quickly twirls her. It seems to take her by surprise as her movements stutter and she almost falls against his chest.

“I think that’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.” 

Phryne is still staring at him, her smile utterly happy and he can’t help but smile back. The rain has started to fall steadily around them. He quickly guides her towards the barn and tries not to consider how she’s snuggled in to his chest or how slow he is to untangle himself from her. 

He looks at the lock on the wooden door expectedly and to his resignation it appears quite study, “You don’t happen to have anything sharp on you, do you?”

Her smile turns wicked, “You’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, are you Inspector?”

He turns to glare at her half-heartedly “Needs must, Miss Fisher” before quickly averting his eyes as she pulls a pair of pearl-headed lock picks from the neckline of her top.

“These would be on your person for completely legal reasons, of course.”

“Of course,” she grins impishly.

As he turns his attention back to the lock, she tries admirably to keep the rain off them both by moving closer to his back to raising his coat over both their heads.

“My, my, Inspector wherever did you learn that particular skill set?” He attempts not to react as her words come from startlingly close to his ear.

“A man has to keep some mystery, Miss Fisher.”

At last the lock releases and they realise they’ve stumbled upon a small workman’s living quarters, former as it appears. The place doesn’t look like it has been used in months, perhaps years but it does appear structurally sound and even hosts a small bed in the corner.

Jack directs Phryne immediately to sit on the bed. He manages to light a lantern with a couple of matches found in a dusty forgotten drawer, finally able to look her over better in the soft glow, eyes not as glassy as he had feared. He sits down opposite her.

“Follow my finger,” he commands softly, as he moves it slowly in front of her eyes.  
She scoffs but relents nonetheless, “I’m not dying, Jack.”

“You better not be, I can’t imagine the loss I would feel upon having my crime scenes no longer invaded,” he remarks easily but she’s aware enough to catch the worried glances he keeps shooting her.

She grabs at his hand to squeeze his fingers, proof of her continued existence as though he didn’t carry her most of the way, “Oh but look Jack darling, I’m still here.”

“You almost weren’t,” he speaks so softly she almost doesn’t catch that. She opens her mouth to say something but he cuts her off and for once she doesn’t press the issue. 

“Come on, you must be exhausted and I’m fairly sure you can sleep for a little while without harm.”

She lay down on the bed, curled in to her side, his overcoat draped over her as a blanket and she grips it tightly. It can’t be considered warm but he still considers removing his suit jacket to join her, suddenly exhausted himself. He knows no sleep will come, not with the events of the evening in his mind still running through his mind but he does hope Phryne at least will be able to before a tremble of a voice slips through his thoughts.

“You don’t regret meeting me, do you Jack?” He turns to look at her but her face is partially covered by his coat.

“Of course not, how could you ask such a thing?”

“I know the novelty can wear off fairly quickly, you certainly wouldn’t be stuck here at least,” she reasons easily and it catches Jack completely off guard, how could she possibly think that? 

He isn’t sure whether it’s a result of whatever opiate most likely still running through her veins or a hidden fear but he feels an unreasonable need to make sure she can never question it again.

“You are the most remarkable person I know and I can’t imagine my life without you.” It used to worry him how much that statement rang true, especially as of late, she changed his life so completely, it would be almost impossible to consider a universe where he hadn’t met here. 

“Surely quieter and less chaotic?” She shifts slightly so that she can look at him properly recognising the hurt in his voice and continues in the hope of making him smile but it seems to fall flat in the silence of the room.

“Absolutely quieter and less chaotic but you forgot less colourful and less happy,” he confesses resolutely, catching her chin in his hand and keeping her eyes fixed on him.

“I’m glad I make you happy Inspector, likewise.” It’s a soft admission and she smiles sweetly yet tiredly at him before he releases her face and she settles back in to the pillow.

Every time he closes his eyes he tries to piece together the events of the evening but he can’t deny that seeing her bound to a chair didn’t stop his heart for a moment, send a chill down his spine and ultimately cause all thought to flee from his head. He hadn’t even been aware that they were on the trail of the same man. 

Phryne had mentioned in passing working on the case of missing emeralds that belonged to a friend of Mrs Stanley and he hadn’t put the pieces together until he found he stumbled upon her, he still hasn’t put the entirety of it together but allows that nothing can be dealt with any further tonight. 

Mervin Thompson, a local businessman _(and Jack would use that term loosely)_ ‘s associate was recently murdered after becoming embroiled in a low level drugs dispute. The only question that Jack had was how they were funding this new escapade in to the drug world, and the subsequent payoffs to officials to look the other way, but once he Phryne had contacted him, the picture was becoming clearer. 

The emeralds were only the most recent in a long list of professionally stolen jewels could easily be fenced for profit, he only wished he had realised it sooner. He also thanked any deity that he could name that Thompson wasn’t the sort to resort to murder, far too self-assured for that. The worst Phryne was subjected to was likely a mild sedative, the outcome otherwise wasn’t worth considering. 

“You’re a necessity and a luxury.” It startles him out of his reverie, he had truly believed she had fallen asleep but perhaps she too had been worrying over the events of the evening, the sentiment is clear if a little desperate as though she’s willing him to believe it.

“That sounds frightfully like commitment, Miss Fisher,” he tries to quip, not accustomed to hearing her so vulnerable but willing to make light of anything she wouldn’t say under more sober circumstances, she doesn’t owe him anything.

He hears her sigh, a warm breath directed just beneath his ear as she shuffles closer to him, as though that’s not the response she imagined, or was hoping for but he refuses to react. 

“Maybe it should.” The response is slightly mumbled and he’s relieved that she sounds now to be on the verge of sleep.

He tries his best not to look too closely in to that statement but is helpless to prevent her name falling from his lips, “Phryne.”

“I do adore how you say my name Jack, how I wish you’d make more use of it,” she sounds as tired as he feels, punch-drunk and unable to stop saying whatever she’s thinking. 

She tucks herself tighter in to his side, but somehow resists the temptation to reach out and touch him. Jack is currently less inclined and gives in to an earlier impulse and runs his fingers through her hair and she hums contentedly.

“Sleep Phryne, we’ll figure things out in the morning,” and she does.

/

**Author's Note:**

> i am in the midst of writing new things and rewriting others so if you enjoyed this you might enjoy them as well, thanks for reading!


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